


I Missed You.

by cumberbabeswillrise



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Sherlock - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:43:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberbabeswillrise/pseuds/cumberbabeswillrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes has faced many villains and criminals over the years, each more horrible and violent than the last, but there is one villain he has never had to even attempt to defeat; himself.</p><p>PLEASE NOTE THAT THERE IS A TRIGGER WARNING. BE STRONG. I LOVE YOU ALL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Missed You.

Sherlock stared into the abyss of his mind palace, seeing nothing. Normally, he could see explosions of information and pictures that he'd stored over the years. Colors popped and knowledge flourished when he stepped into his brain and entered the vast universe that was his brain.

Now, as he tried to see into his mind palace, only one thing revealed itself to him from the darkness.

Himself.

Sherlock watched the sick version of himself, curled up in a ball on the ground. The white skin hung on bony shoulders, his ribcage reminded Sherlock of jutting mountains. Sherlock shook and convulsed, a sick smile on its bony face. Slowly, the ragged version of himself opened its eyes, which were red and wild, and its hair hung to its shoulders. It stood up, exposing the jagged angles and bones and skin that glowed in the blackness.

“I've missed you,” it whispered, yellow teeth making Sherlock's lip curl in distaste, “Did you miss me too?”

Sherlock backed up, his breath shaking. He had escaped this gross, pitiful version of himself a long time ago, and he was not about to be taken back into it's clutches.

“Stay away from me,” Sherlock hissed through his teeth.

“But Sherly, I love you. You remember me, right? We had such _fun_ together. So many memories,” it smiled and bit it's lip, “You know, waking up in an alley, untangling yourself from some whore. You couldn't remember how you got there but the bits and pieces your brain retained were so _marvelous,_ ” it lunged forward, grasping Sherlock by the wrist with it's cold fingers, “You can't pretend like you don't miss it. The needle in your vein, the tourniquet on your arm. The _rush_. You've never felt so alive, your brain has never felt so clear!”

“You disgust me. I got rid of you because you were worthless, and you're still worthless. Get away from me,” Sherlock tried to rip his hand from it's grasp, but the bony fingers were locked tight around his wrist.

It laughed, high pitched and cold. It pulled Sherlock's sleeve up to his elbow, exposing the pale flesh, which was now muscled and toned. It kissed the inside of the elbow, then down his forearm to the horizontal scars that lined his wrist. Then, it licked up the vertical line that stretched from his wrist to his elbow.

“You miss it. You've recovered, but you miss it. It took away all of the pain, made quitting heroin much easier, right? Oh, Sherlock, it feels so good. Why not do it again?”

Suddenly, a knife appeared in it's hand. With a wicked smile, it plunged the knife deep into Sherlock's arm, slicing up until the cut reached his neck. The blood spurted out, enveloping Sherlock like a cloak. He began choking, sinking to his knees while the past him took Sherlock's head in it's hands, coddling him like a baby.

“Sleep, my darling. Sleep,” it cooed, “Sleep, _sleep._ ” 

 


End file.
